Twisted(139)

“It’s vegetable dye. I can’t use the real stuff right now.”

“What, is there a shortage or something?” He grinned. “Doesn’t surprise me. You change your hair practically daily.”

“Places everyone. Simon, don’t touch that. Jazz and Gray, get on the bed.”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her with him. “Be gentle with me, okay? I’ve had a long eight weeks.”

“You’re not the only one,” she mumbled, prepared to climb the three steps to the platform bed. But he turned and plucked her up, setting her down carefully on the mattress and lying beside her as if were the most natural thing in the world.

She stared up at him, dizzy for a whole different reason than her usual one lately. “Gray,” she whispered urgently.

“Hmm, baby?”

“Jazz, move your leg. That angle is not flattering. Gray, put your hand higher. Pretend you actually like her.”

“Was this really your idea?” he muttered in Jazz’s ear, doing as requested. His hand slid up her thigh and she bit her lip to keep from moaning, though she wasn’t sure if it was from desire or distress. Probably both.

“I’m not sure I properly conceptualized it.”

“You think?” He turned his face into her hair. “Sweet hell, you smell like a fucking wet dream.”

“That’s good.” The bearded cameraman loomed over them, his breath reeking of the meatball sub she’d seen him eating a few minutes ago. Jazz’s stomach roiled. “Roll half on top of her. Think the hottest makeout session of your life. When we come into the bridge, Simon’s going to take center stage for a moment and that’s when we want you to slide down her body. I think we all know what we want you to simulate.”

Gray lifted his head. “You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t worry, with camera angles, it will all still be classy,” Lila said from a few feet away.

“Oh yeah. This shoot is fucking exploding with class,” Nick said. “Too bad I forgot my pearls.”

“Bet we could arrange a pearl necklace pretty easily,” Simon said.

Gray choked with laughter and gripped his side. “Ow, fuck, that still hurts.”

Jazz eased up on an elbow and touched Gray’s jaw. “Want me to get on top?”

“I do.”

“Shut up,” Jazz and Gray said to Simon.

“No, stay where you are,” Lila commanded. “If everyone cooperates, this will be done by lunch.”

“You mean I’ll be done for,” Gray breathed in her ear, making her laugh. He traced small circles with his thumb on her upper thigh, rekindling her lust and easing her nerves at the same time.

The set crew continued to yell instructions to each other and to the members of the band. Nick, Simon and Deak were supposed to rock out on their instruments in the corner like a bunch of voyeurs while she and Gray rocked out on the bed. At the end, a sugar-like powder would be dumped on them from above. Whether that would turn out sexy or dopey as hell was anyone’s guess.

At the moment, she had bigger problems.

When the recorded track to “Sugar Kiss” started and Gray nuzzled the side of her neck, panic really set in. She’d bungled this so badly, and keeping this secret from him any longer felt like a huge mistake. She’d wanted to do something sexy and unique that they would never forget. Hell, their most important moment would even be memorialized for all time on video. But her sexy was in short supply and after his pre-shoot declaration about wanting to go slow, she couldn’t hold back one second more.

“Gray.” She guided his face up to hers, well aware the cameras were still rolling. Not really caring. She rubbed her mouth over his and slid her hand along his jaw so it blocked the movement of her lips. She hoped. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Had she overdone the whole hand blocking thing? The recorded music was freaking loud, and the guys were playing for real in the corner because Nick had insisted he couldn’t simulate.

She wet her parched lips and inched closer to Gray’s ear, about to try some seductive lobe action while yet again imparting her news, when his head reared up and collided with hers. Hard. Stars swam in her vision and she reached up to grab her throbbing face.

It was wet. That probably wasn’t good.

“Cut!” The cameraman shouted as a slew of curses erupted around them.

“Oh Christ, get ice. We’ve got a bleeder,” someone called.

Gray, however, didn’t appear to notice her fluid loss. “What? What did you say?” She cupped her nose and tried to speak but evidently he’d decided to pry the words out of her by force if necessary. He dragged her hand away from her nose and pressed his there instead, holding it away from her mouth. His eyes were wilder than she’d ever seen them. “Say it again.”